Sonnets XXXIII

Before the day the gleaming dawn doth flee: —
All yester-night I had a dreary dream:
Methought I walked in desert Academe
Among fallen pillars — and there came to me
All in a dim half-twilight silently
A very sad old man — his eyes were red
With over-weeping — and he cried and said,
'The light hath risen, but shineth not on me.'
Beautiful Athens, all thy loveliness
Is like the scarce-remembered burst of spring
When now the summer in her party-dress
Hath clothed the woods, and filled each living thing
With ripest joy — because upon our time
Hath risen the noon, and thou wert in the prime.